CULMERS' CROWN Cracked with his own LOOKING-GLASS; OR, The Coxcombs LOOKING-GLASS Broken about his ears. AND A Counter-mirror held forth to all good People, for their undeceiving in the pretended sufferings of that Pseudomartyr, and grand Impostor of this age, Blue Dick of Thanet. Reflecting from certain pertinent Observations upon an impertinent, false and frivolous Apology of his ascribed to his more ingenuous son, but scribbled by his most ignominious self. Wherein especially, All the world may see the ugly face of that prodigious Monster; and consequently, what a woeful exchange the good, but unfortunate, men of minster have made, of a Doctor for a Dunce, of a learned Divine for a leaden Dick, of a reverend Pastor for a ravenous Persecutor: in a word, of a Casaubon for a Culmer; names, for the merit of the one, and demerit of the other, as diametrically opposite as Fame and Infamy. Published By a true son of that worthy Doctor, one of his Parishioners, in vindication of himself, his dear brethren, and their reverend ghostly Father, from the false aspersions, and malicious defamations of that common Oppressor of them all: who pretending to write a martyrology, tells a tale of a TURD, and wrapping it up in a Legend of lies, forgeries, and other base trumpery, (to say nothing here of his SHITTEN STYLE) thinks it a fit Present for an honourable Colonel; who judging it fit for a PRIVY than a public use, or rather of no use but in a case of NECESSITY, hath sent it to Goldfinders Hall, there to serve for an Ani-tergium when NEED requires. The case is alTVRD then: what Dick designed To stand and serve in Front, is clapped behind. What Dick thought worthy of a Son of Mars, Scarce worthy most men think to wipe his A— Whilst all conclude that none but Fools and Asses Will value such a Woodcocks Looking-glasses. Culmers' Parish-Looking glass, p. 22. No Knave to the pretended Religious Knave. To the Reader. Courteous Reader, MY first entertainment of thee must be with an Apology for not keeping my word with thee in the precedent Title-page, where I promised to play the Observator upon Blue Dicks Looking-glass. Seriously what I so promised, I then really intended, but upon second thoughts, and by some inducements not much material to be specified, my mind is somewhat altered. Not but that I still intent to be an Observator, but rather on his Life, then on his Looking glass: by the help, and after the method of the latter, observing the most remarkable passages of the former. So that upon the matter, the are not so much altered, as the dressing, the matter, as the form. And this premised, I shall stay thee no longer in the porch, but in hope of thy courteous pardon for this little receding from the first design, I shall present myself, and what I have to say unto thee under this ensuing Title. DICK CULMERS Life DISCOVERED (Chief) by his own LOOKING-GLASS. TO the shame and dishonour of his native soil, His birthplace, and pranks there. never before tainted either with producing or harbouring any venomous or noisome creature; He was born and bred (at Duns-acre) in the Isle of Thanet: from whence, after some notable exploits construed by his fond and partial parents for early Omens of his innate wit, and good prognostics of an ingenious head-piece, (such as his newfound way for descending the Cliffs to catch Jackdaws by the help of a rope fastened to his Father's Cows horns:) he is transplanted into the Continent: and, that art might improve nature, sent to Canterbury School, His behaviour at School. where though under the King of Schoolmasters, (pag. 3.) such a Blockhead he proves, that he quickly disappoints his friends, and discredits his Master. Ex omni ligno non fit Mercurius, is an old saying, which our Dick at once both revives and verifies by his nonproficiency. Senior happily (as he pretends) he was, that is, Senior Dunce of all the School. To give him his full due, we will grant him famous too, right famous indeed (not to mention here his many rakehelly pranks usually chastised with a swinging rod provided for the nonce, and called by his name) for a bloody persecution which the Fox escaped by burrowing in a bench-hole, retaining to this day the name of Culmers' hole * See the Antidote, p. 3. . 2. He doth very well to commend his Master, but it were better (for his own credit) that his Master, if alive, had less cause to discommend him. Under him indeed, though not from him, he made a beginning with some proficiency in his laudable, liberal Arts of Swimming, Thieving, Cuffing, Footbal-playing, etc. which afterwards he prosecuted, At the University. perfected, and became Master (or, if you will Doctor) of at Cambridge; where having gotten his bag fuller of stolen Wheat * See the Antidote, p. 6. then his brain of solid wit, after a notable escape from a second bloody persecution by the hand of the Butler in Magdalen College cellar, for playing the thief, he is looked upon as a great shame to the place: and lest his continuance there might occasion too great a flux of tears from that mournful Saints eyes, expelled the College; who, after some vagaries, plants himself at Goodnestone (p. At Goodnesto. 3.) where falling to the exercise of his precious gifts, he breaks the Laws of Hospitality, plays the perfidious guest, and turns Traitor to his Host, upon pretence of love to his Prince, putting fair for the life of his Parishioner * See the Antidote, p. 17. &c , p. 7. 3. Soon after being cashiered thence, (whither though the name he brought were bad enough, yet, as at all removes, he left a worse behind him:) he goes a Bulling * See the same, p. 10. to Herbaldown, and there bellowing it out a while, he finds himself ere long eclipsed by the more illustrious Cathedralists, his near neighbours. Wherefore having gotten (what he long wished and watched for) an opportunity for revenge, His plundoring the Cathedral. he brussels up to them, and as if now he would scratch out their eyes, who would once have well scourged his breech; under a pretence of letting in new lights, he falls (like one fit indeed to make a Thresher then a Scholar) to threshing down the old, (p. 5.) their much admired, but since the Reformation, never until then abused windows. And, to clear the place of all monuments of superstition, down go Crowned Kings for Canonised Saints: and, to show whose son he was, he knocks down Christ, and spares the Devil. Nor stays he there, but (that all might dance after his own pipe) his next care is to break the Organs: and carrying them in a triumphant bravado up into the high Steeple, he there proclaims his much higher valour in the conquest, both of them, and those whose of right they were, by setting them (more like a scoffing Lucian then a sober Christian) to the tune of a scurrilous and a lousy catch. In fine, he makes such a foul work all the Church over, (for which nothing more sure than that his name will stink to all posterity,) that for want of fair water, he is fain to use foul, turning that beastly Cock in his own stinking Codpiece, for water to lay the dust. From what time no marvel if persecutions abide him, the very Heathens observing a curse due to that wretch that should mingere in patrios cineres, dare to play the beast, and piss upon the sacred ashes of his Ancestors. 4. By the way, here I expected some touch at least of a persecution betiding him in these his Cathedral actings. Mr. P.E. For a young Gentleman of the City observing from without, his wild and outragions zeal within, in making such havoc of the goodly windows upon the account of Idolatry, and coming up towards him, Ironically falls to applauding of the action, calling to him, and telling him it was a very good work, and that he would join with him in it and help him. And thereupon catching up a good thumping stone, takes his aim at the place where the Pikeman was standing, mounted on his Haman like ladder: and intending it not at the glass but the glass-breaker, throws it with all the power he could, and had not some iron bars interposed between his pate and the stone, it had done such execution as would have quite marred his making of Looking-glasses, & put an end, if not to the work, yet to the workman, by dashing out those little brains he had; who therefore me thinks should not have omitted this out of his Persecution-legend. But will you know the reason? the Gentleman is yet alive, and no way (as you must believe his other Persecutors are, eo nomine;) become a signal example of divine vengeance. He is not indeed, but one that possibly (and not improbably) may live to see the Cathedral Thresher, who was so nimble to run up the ladder here, as willing to come down another elsewhere, which (alas) he cannot do without breaking his neck; it being such a scurvy kind of ladder as will admit of no descent but by a rope with such a hampering noose, that (if it be not misplaced, as in this action it was) will neither suffer his advance to heaven, nor his retreat to earth, but take him short of both, as unworthy of either, and only fit to be hanged up as a PARISH LOOKING-GLASS FOR PLUNDERERS OF MINISTERS. 5. But to go on with our story, the late eclipsed Worthy by this time having gotten together a sufficient stock of merit, and scorning therefore any longer to serve as a Journeyman, who had now so well deserved to set up for himself, he leaves his Curate-ship at Herbaldown, and because others will not prefer him, His intrusion at St. Stephens. he will prefer himself. Like a covetous Ahab then envying his neighbour Naboth a better Vineyard than his own, he confidently thrusts his sickle into a much worthier man's harvest at St. Stephens * See 〈…〉 Antido●●● : whence being ready (as once that Martyr, but in a better cause) to be stoned for his pains, by the enraged Parishioners, sensible of their true Pastor's oppression: and after a repulse (p. 9) first at Cartham, and afterwards at Ickham, (for the Devil himself is not more unwelcome every where) he makes towards his own beloved Home-stal, Afterwards at minster. and pitching upon minster, as a fit, because a fat, morsel for his insatiate maw, he employs all the arts he was Master of, in supplanting and pulling down an eminent Doctor for implanting and setting up that excellent Dunce himself, (p. 10.) And not satisfied with his persecution of the Shepherd, unless he may also pray upon the Sheep, (whom he finds averse to such a wretched exchange, and very desirous to cast such a rider as gets up into the saddle on the wrong side;) he throws off his vizard, and plainly shows that he sought not them but theirs, not the Flock but the Fleece: that by the saving of their souls he meant the gaining of their Tithes, not caring so much to reform their lives, as to improve his own livelihood, being one whose godliness consists only in gain. Indeed, whatsoever swum at the top, such was the foul and feculent bottom of that gilded and specious design. His pranks there. For now, like a very Tyrant or a Tiger, though he have not wherewith to nourish their souls, yet he will enforce them to cherish his body; like a barking Cur snarling at the detainers, though but of Mint and Cumin, and scouring his foul mouth upon them in such a sort of silly quibbling nicknames, as shall sooner render himself then them ridiculous to all that truly know both: whilst the spiteful wretch may justly laugh at his own folly for thinking to fright men with such childish scare-crows; and by that old brawling whores trick, (which using so much thither, he learned at Billingsgate) of calling Whore first, discovers one other of those arts whereof he is truly Master: the grand Persecutor. of Kent and Christendom crying out of persecution, and thinking to make it visible to all the world by a false, flattering and partial Looking-glass: which notwithstanding is not so impenetrable but that a weak sight may look quite through it, or but turning tother side, plainly see that Catilina Cethegum, that 'tis the Wolf complains of worrying by the Sheep, the Lion by the Lamb, the Vulture by the Dove: But he who hath least cause is most forward to complain, and however enamoured of himself, is indeed a fouler, uglier and much more odious Persecutor (both of Pastor and People) than any mirror can fully represent. 6 To proceed, minster he gapes for, and minster he gets: and behold now the strong man is in possession, and yet without that mutual honey-love between Minister and People, which of him in that case is observed, (p. 26.) nay, with so much of (what he well deserved) ill will and odium of all the Parish, (who were not such arrant Asses as willingly to suffer such a fool to ride them: or tamely to submit their necks to such a Swineherds Hogs-yoak, p. 2.) that, for preventing the Canterbury Bonfires, (as a better argument for keeping him in, than any from his own worth and merit) he escapes an Ejection by the Assembly of Divines, (p. 11.) (and is so abetted by another Assembly, as that finding him so happy and dextrous) at saving of souls at home, he is sent on the same errand abroad. And because he cannot get his neighbouring Ministers good will to associate with them in their Margate Lecture (where they knew him so ill beloved, An intrusion at Margate. as he could neither do them any credit, nor the people any good) he by high and strong hand obtrudes himself, (p. 13.) but with so much distaste both to Ministers and people, that to save his pains, and their patience in harkening to such an impertinent babbler, the Lecture falls. 7. So that thus repulsed, home again he comes, where following his Barn more than his Book, his tithe on the weekday closer than his Text on the Lords; he hath not time enough in the day, but borrows a part of a Moonlight night (the more proper season for a deed of darkness, and wherein, whilst true men sleep, thiefs and robbers play their pranks) to steal up into the Steeple, Set by the D. on a Pinnacle of the Temple. (p. 14.) and being by (that Prince of darkness) the Devils help placed on the Pinnacle of it, he soon rewards him for his pains, by casting down, not the Parish true eyesore, himself, but that Devilish eyesore (the Church and Christians ancient badge and banner) the Cross. 8. Now could the Parish have been as soon to rid of their Cross, which but that you would think I meant himself, I would call a worse, the Bells, to which we are now making, should not I conceive have been so speechless as it seems they were, (p. 27.) when but for his Wives great iron pestle, Thumping the clapperless Bells with his P. he means (as Fools have good tools) his own great swinging pisle, they had been as mure and silent there, as the good people endeavoured to make him be below, when they put him to get in like a thief (as he was) by a (shitten) window, and rewarded some of his very little flock with a foul stile without, and others with a filthy pew within, and yet (what say they?) good enough for such as could find in their hearts to go a calving, and lend their ears to such a bleating Bell-wether; such a mercenary Balaam, as he where ere he comes is held no better; and particularly with his very testimonialists at Canterbury, (p. 8.) who long ere this finding themselves mistaken in countenancing a ravenous Wolf under a sheep's skin, are no less ashamed of him, than he is proud of them, wishing (many of them) they had not so much cause with just regret to say, Litera scripta manet. 9 Well, but to Canterbury we have brought him, where for a while we shall leave him, Preaching to the walls. playing the Pulpiteer, but preaching, as at home, in a manner to those walls which can hardly hold any auditors but such as are surprised by being not ware of his turn: the people there generally abhorring such an accursed instrument of the barbarous spoil, and beastly profanation of that most incomparable ornament of the place and Nation, their once flourishing, now (thank the Devil and Dick) fading, Dick a plumporridge Priest falling Cathedral and watching an opportunity for a full revenge upon that impious Herostratus, no marvel if he found it better playing the Plumporridge Priest, (p. 30.) and filling his paunch as he did with a first and second mess of good stew'd-broth, and a Nativity-pye in Mr. Philip's Parlour on a Christmas-day (p. 29.) without the least scandal or scruple of conscience upon the account of superstition, nay with thanks and approbation as (in terminis) very seasonable fare: then adventuring his person among the enraged Christmas-men, who perhaps might have thoughts of such suitable wages for his not forgotten, though unrewarded impious Church-work, not to be expiated by his many vaunted goodworks, (p. 30.) as that kind of advancement he speaks of, but with a shorter ladder I believe then served his turn there, and a rope not so misplaced as then. 10. Playing the Otter. Thus indeed they had saved his pains in swimming and diving, as shortly after, to get to Sandwich, (p. 31, 32.) from whence acted and affrighted as much, if not more, by that Nemesis à tergo, his own guilt, than others malice, he trots to Deal, where we must imagine him taking Sanctuary in his Cousin Culmers' chimney corner, Preaching in a chimney corner. and there entertaining mine Host and his family with a Winter's tale, or a Tragickcomaedy of his hard, but happy escape; as lately from the Gallows, so now from the Billows, from hanging at one time, and drowning at another: and in a woeful manner recounting a deal of other such pitiful stuff and stories of his heavy persecutions, as set his tenderhearted Host a weeping, until at length out comes the tale of a Turd, the beshitten stile and pew, when presently the scene altars, the Heraclitus turns Democritus, mine Host now laughs as hearty as he wept before, and doubtless becomes a suitor to his guest (for the honour of their name and family) by some godly book or ballad, to give the world an account (as now he hath done in his Martyrological Apology) of all his sad disasters, and wounderful deliverances. The contents of which rare Masterpiece, especially in the 29 page, as it makes me call to mind the story of A-JAX, so that part of it considered and compared with the precedent, full of lamentable and tragical tales, hardly to be read by any but Stoics or stocks with dry eyes, puts me also in mind of such another Preacher as the Author, the famous Scogan, Scogans' Ape. who with his forrowful face, set one part of his Auditory on weeping, and with his open A— at the same instant set the other on laughing. 11. But to return to our Pilgrim, who (to case the Land a while of her unprofitable burden) puts to Sea, and safely gets to London, (p. 32.) whither if we follow him, we may find him, after a sad rehearsal Sermon of his many sufferings for the cause (wherein he speaks righter than he is ware, having ever given a very just cause for all his sufferings: Prattling at Berdmondsey. ) and a use of exhortation to the Brethren at Berdmondsey to pity his case, but especially to resent the foul abuse and beastly offront offered to a neighbour of theirs, a London Dame (p. 29.) to the spoiling of her satin petticoat and her devotion to boot, (whereof he gave them such a sweet relation as would not out of their nostrils a good while after:) he takes his leave of them to go tell the same story (decies repetita placebit) to the Army, under whose protection he makes a cowardly retreat by the way of Why, Railing on the living, and rashly censuring the dead. (p. 32.) where (as his manner is throughout the whole Pamphlet, or rather Pasquil, being stuffed with nothing more than base invectives on the living and bitter censures on the dead, all whose sufferings, as if of the Cabinet counsel with God himself, he ascribes to a just judgement from that divine hand upon them for persecuting such a darling of Heaven, as he by his false Looking-glass endeavours to appear:) he so insults over a dead Lion, a valiant but unfortunate Gentleman, that I cannot but wonder at the surviving brother, that with patience and silence he can put up and pass over so great an indignity offered to his brother's memory: how he can forbear to cast stones at his pate that shall thus cast dirt in his brother's face; De mortuis nil nisi bona. an impiety abhorred even of Heathens, and deserving Scorpious or the lash of some outrageous fury to chastise it. 12. But hoping on this hint (though some say his mouth is stopped, and his hand stayed, with a book) he may be roused to do his brother, and therein himself right; I shall leave him, and return to that snarling Cerberus, who at length once more recovers his kennel. But expect his long resting there we may not: for like a Knight errand, Dick a Non-Resident. or a more arrant Non-Resident then any against whom he clamours, (p. 26.) a mere wandering Levitical Renegado, (p. 37.) he is continually in motion, once a week at least, measuring the distance between East-Mynster and West-Mynster, and out of a penurious baseness seldom or never passing between London and Gravesend but by the common Tilt-boat, amongst his Peers, I confess, tag, rag & bobtail, a rabble of sordid, nasty, lousy people: & yet sometimes so invisibly by lodging and laying himself up, or rather down, Persecuted by the watermen. under the benches on purpose to avoid the watermen's persecution for his six penny fare, that he is fain either to be kicked up like a dog, or, as once at Canterbury-School, drawn out by the heels, to the wonder of his fellow-passengers, but not of the watermen, which have been accustomed to his hidingfox tricks. 13. But he is by this time on shore, and being gotten to the Exchequer, Very sensible of the want of the Ecclesiast. Court. (p. 33.) is there preferring (what alas he cannot do in the Ecclesiastical Courts, which, to the great prejudice of such faithful Ministers, were unluckily abolished, p. 2.) a Lye-bill against some of his Persecutors, that is, the detainers of those Tithes whereof (as they are a sort of knowing men, and withal of more conscience than himself) they know him to be a mere Usurper, and not less out in calling himself their Pastor, than he was erewhile in saying that Pontius was the Christian name of Pilate, (p. 34.) Indeed admit this, (that he is of right the parish Minister of minster) and than what he says is somewhat: Not rightful Minister of minster. but if on the contrary de facto only, he thrusts his sickle into another's harvest: or, admitting the Living to be void, if such a one obtrude himself upon the people, that is so notoriously unworthy as to become the odium and out-cast of all places; not one, but all, both places and persons, where he is known, rising up and bandying themselves against him, either to keep him out, and stave him off that he come not in, or if gotten in, being ever restless, and never at quiet till he be spewed out: if such a one as he, so foully scandalous for his life, (by many strange piacula a ppearing by this Counter-mirror * Whereof much more in the Antidote, throughout. ) and such an Ignoramus for his learning, (if he will be judged by his own book) as utterly unable to return them, Quid pro quo, a recompense in teaching for his maintenance in Tithes; if such a one, I say, shall call and hold himself to be the Minister of minster, as it is no other than petitio principii, a craving to have that yielded which until it be proved ought not to be admitted: so if on that account the people shall withhold their Tithes, and be worried and hurried up and down for it by such a Priest, let equal Judges say, which of the two, is the Persecutor. 14. But whatever he be, we must remember where we last left him, and that was at the Exchequer, where it may be doubted he found but cold entertainment, for we shall have him next not much rejoicing, though warming himself at a Bonfire (p. 36.) and for his Readers recreation (that hath quite tired his eyes with poring so long upon a dull and dusty Looking-glass) rewarding his patience, and pleasing his ear another while with a piece of Thanet Poetry; a Ballad of Jack Benet. Dick turned Ballad-singer. But (as there are two of the name) he says not which: I shall therefore, to prevent a mistake of the wrong for the right, adventure also on a few rhymes in behalf of the true. A word with thee Jack Benet, And, c'ause thou liv'st in Tenet, Pray tell thy neighbour Dick Of his unhandsome trick, To bring thee on the stage In this bespattering age. For some that knew old Dick, And how he used his P— Say all his brats were not Upon his Wife begot: But that the lusty blade Got up and did his Maid, Who fructifyed, and what? A wench the Knave begat. This Wench they say in Tenet Was married to Jack Benet. Now was't not basely done Of old Dick Culmers Son Thy name, good Jack, to mention Without the least distinction, As if thou wert the man? And (shall I tell thee John?) What say the men of Tenet? This sure is that Jack Benet Who knit the nuptial knot With Culmers' bastard brat. Then Jack for vindication Of this base imputation Upon thy virtuous Wife Of spotless birth and life, Or get thy name struck out, Or make that fumbling Lout Explain himself, and say: Mistake me not I pray, This Jack is not the Gull That took to Wife the Trull, (Undone if he had missed her) Repent, my bastard-sister. Thus shall thy wife, Jack Benet, Throughout the I'll of Tenet Be cleared, who else (alas!) Will for that Whores-bird pass. But our Ballad-singer (who is very fugitive, and never stays long at a place) having sung out his song, and turned over a new leaf, (p. 37.) is gotten to Billingsgate, where (as Ballad-mongers are) being taken for a rogue and a vagrant, he hath much ado to escape (what by good hap a Scribe at hand was ready to write) a Mittimus from thence to (a fit cage for such birds as Ballad-makers to sing in) Newgate. But his time is not yet come, Like to be sent to Newgate. though in good time it may, notwithstanding his many testimonials from several places, which are now no better than so many old Almanacs, out of date, and which indeed, in most men's judgement, are but the products either of fear or flattery: some of the subscribers out of fear of his displeasure, ne noceat, (as the Indians worship the Devil:) others out of flattery, and a seeming compliance with such an active Zealot for the Cause, none out of love holding forth a hand to him, but many (as once his Best friend, or friend Best) out of hatred, to cuff his ears and cudgel his coat. 16. But see he is gotten back to minster, (p. 39 Turned Looking-glass maker. ) where we shall leave him making of Looking-glasses, and saving the souls of as many as will pay him, which he hath taken a course shall be but few, by making it a certain note, or a sure sign of a good Minister (p. 37.) to be opposed by all his Parish. And thus, like a learned Disputant, hath he brought himself into a very fine Dilemma. For either the people must keep their money, Taken in a Dilemma. or else the Priest must lose his credit: a very good hint to the whole Parish to have a care of avoiding that proverb: A Fool and his money are soon parted. 17. And thus much have you of the life of this faithful Minister, The Conclusion. which is as much as the Locking-glass affords. If you want more, you must have patience with me until further enabled by such another Mirror; which, this going off so well, we have all reason shortly to expect, if we may be so happy hereafter as heretofore, that neither hanging at land, nor drowning at Sea deprive us of the Crafts-mans': which whoso does not deprecate, let him be condemned to fire and faggot, being made to contribute his share of both to that common pile, whereof no doubt both at Canterbury and Mynster, there will be need enough for drying up that Ocean of tears which me thinks I see gushing from the eyes of a multitude of mourners greedily assembling to condole the loss of so universal a Darling, and with joined hands throwing themselves in a round about the flaming pile, and ejaculating this doleful Dirge and Ditty: O what a loss have we, Sirs, O what a loss have we, Sirs! O hone, O hone, Blue Dick is gone: Then what a loss have we Sirs! So true (alas) is that, Sirs, So true (alas) is that, Sirs, The choicest flowers, Live fewest hours, So true (alas) is that Sirs. He Looking-glasses made, Sirs, He Looking-glasses made, Sirs, Cathedral Lies, With Hues and Cries, O 'twas a Clerklike trade, Sirs. But now the workman's gone, Sirs, But now the workman's gone, Sirs, His wages he Receives, but we Are quite and clean undone Sirs. But bootless 'tis to grieve, Sirs, But bootless 'tis to grieve, Sirs, What's past, in vain We call again: Then bootless 'tis to grieve, Sirs. If you'll be ruled by me, Sirs, If you'll be ruled by me, Sirs, Let sorrows pack, Drown Cares in Sack, If you'll be ruled by me, Sirs. Clear up the brow, cheer up, Sirs, Clear up the brow, cheer up, Sirs, What ere his hue, Bid Dick adieu, And let's have t'other cup, Sirs. And change the Note, and sing Sirs, Till Heaven with Echoes ring Sirs: Nor sigh, nor groan, Nor cry O hone, But Jo Paean sing Sirs. Summa approbationis. Having perused the Mirror and Counter mirror, and finding the former a very ARE Sificial piece, by reason of the PURE STYLE affording very sweet and fragrant flowers, fit to dress up the PRIVY. chamber: and yet fearing some directions may be wanting for gathering a Posy of them where with this Counter-mirror is pertinently fraught, I cannot but give it a free Licence; wishing all beholders to join with me in a due estimate of both; at least, not to neglect the good help of the latter, for discovering the NECESSARY use of the former. Philo-katoptrono-klastes. Printed at London, 1657.